


Once, there was a Fairy...

by AscellaArcher



Series: WICKED (quick Tales of the Lost) [1]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), Maleficent (Disney Movies), Maleficent (Disney Movies) RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Mother/Daughter dynamics, Movie: Descendants (2015), Movie: Descendants 3, Pre-Descendants (2015), Pre-Descendants 2, Subtle family bond breaking, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AscellaArcher/pseuds/AscellaArcher
Summary: Look at you, look at me,I don't know who to be,Mother...
Series: WICKED (quick Tales of the Lost) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782157
Kudos: 16





	Once, there was a Fairy...

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Tales of the Lost. An Alternative Universe: Descendants.
> 
> A Quarantine idea.
> 
> Some advance warnings:
> 
> > The Isle of the Lost is not a good place, keep that in mind.  
> > This is a work in progress, so I don't know exactly how far it goes.  
> > The vast majority (if not all) of the characters, major and minor, will be LGBTs or have LGBT relationships at some point, so if that bothers you ... Don't read.
> 
> That's basically it. Enjoy!
> 
> PS:. For translation errors blame Google Translate.

**MAL - 9 YEARS OLD**

Mal was sitting at the old dining table, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting for her mother. The last time she sat down with her for dinner was a long time ago.

Diaval was leaning against the wall, looking from time to time at the crooked clock on the sideboard and then back at Mal. Maleficent rarely ate with the girl - or was around - but Diaval always did - getting stuck on that abandoned island in a human form for so long usually distressed him, and he made it his own duty to look after his Master's daughter.

Especially when she thinks her own mother barely supports her. And even in that case, Mal did not lose hope that her mother would appear.

_Where she was?_

_Would she show up this time?_

The day before, Mal could have sworn she saw a glimpse of what it could be, the figure of her mother watching her bedroom window from outside, hidden among the branches of the dry trees, pale except for the green eyes on her face. She disappeared before Mal could give her a second look. She used to do that. Observe it from a distance, always very cold and very far away.

And Mal was always trying to prove herself. But it was hard not to do it wrong.

Mal took her finger and stuffed it into the bowl with cold puree before sliding it in her mouth.

Diaval laughed. "One day you'll be sick, little fairy."

She raised her chin stubbornly. "I will not."

A quiet time passed, the glimmer of hope in Mal's eyes growing weaker by the second.

She pushed her chair back and stood up, walking around the table, she was upset... And sad.

Diaval took a step towards her. "Little fairy, you shouldn't..." he stopped when he looked at her face.

Framed by waves of dark purple highlights, Mal looked like her mother. They shared piercing green eyes and a pale, almost translucent complexion, high cheekbones and the mannerism of arching eyebrows. That's why most people on the island were afraid of her, the resemblance between them was frightening. That, and because Mal had probably inherited her mother's genes, great potential for becoming a dark fairy as well.

Diaval did not follow when she crossed the dimly lit ruins of the house and went up the stairs. "Mom? Dinner is ready."

No reply.

She entered the landing and then approached her mother's room. The door was ajar. The last time this happened, she found her Mother crying in her bed and received the scolding of a lifetime, enough that she would never dare approach the room again, but this time she was totally quiet inside. Mal opened the door, swallowing. It was very quiet.

Downstairs, she heard Diaval's voice. He was calling to her, probably angry that Mal wasn't sitting at the dining room table. She ignored his voice, her feet carried her toward the empty room.

She went into the doorframe and froze. The floor was covered in blood. She had seen enough on the Island to recognize the red liquid and its smell, a hint of copper and something sweet, her mother's scent.

Mal's eyes followed the trail of blood, to a limp body. The throat flesh was separated, giving way to the dry cascade of red staining the sheets.

The body belonged to a stranger. However, Mal felt she had seen him before, even though he looked like a stranger. The face was pale and rigid, the eyes were dull. They were looking at her, sad and lonely.

She took a few steps closer. "Hey..." Another step. "Hey,"

He didn't react. Of course not, he was dead.

_Dead._

Mal's eyes registered the yellow coat of arms on the beaten clothes, a shield divided into four, each part with a symbol that looked strangely familiar: an animalistic face, three fleur-de-lis, three towers and a rose.

Mal looked at her feet. They were soaked with the blood that covered the floor. She stumbled away and walked outside, her mouth open and her eyes wide, burning.

Then she collided with something.

Looking up, Mal found her mother's angry face looking at her. "Stop yelling."

Her mother's voice was rich, melodious and tinged with annoyance. Mal's lips closed. She didn't realize that she started screaming. She blinked at her mother, but her figure was blurred.

"Why are you crying?"

Mal was not sure. She knew that crying was not allowed on the Island, not when it was too easy to be seen as weak and to be taken advantage of. And, usually, she never cried, not when her mother treated her like nothing, or even when the other children got together to beat her. Maleficent's voice hit her harder. "Speak."

"There is a dead man," she mumbled.

Maleficent frowned, watching the blood on her daughter's feet. She passed by her towards the room. "Diaval," she ordered.

He appeared at the doorframe. Mal looked at him, Diaval watched her with a look she didn't understand. It could be pity, it could be fear.

She didn't move.

"Get out, Mal." Maleficent hissed.

Her eyebrows came together and Maleficent's face twisted with discontent, Mal got ready.

"Don't make me repeat it," she said. "Leave."

She barely nodded and staggered out of the room, the door closing behind her. Her last sight was her own mother, Maleficent, Mistress of Darkness, the most powerful and wicked fairy, the most fearful villain in all the land. Looking at her with eyes of pure anguish.

***

Maleficent approached the bed and looked at the immobile body of the Auradon's guard. She looked up at Diaval.

“Get someone to clean up this mess and call Jafar. He needs to get rid of this one more. "

"They shouldn't have come as close as they did,"

Maleficent narrowed her eyes, irritated like flames. "I know, I will need you to keep an eye on Mal, more so, this is not yet their first attack." She paused. “We don't know what to expect with Auradon hanging around. Let them know that if they got too close, we will not hesitate. "

Diaval nodded and left the room quickly enough that he could not see the tears streaming down his Master's face.

**MAL - 12 YEARS OLD.**

She was having colorful dreams, which in itself was already very unusual, before everything happened. Nothing really making sense - a gray sky, a party, strands of vibrant blue, and then ... Screams tore through her nightmare, through images of a river red with blood, cold, dead eyes staring at her. Mal sat, confused, hearing screams too vivid to be part of a nightmare.

_What was happening?_

The light shone under the bedroom door. She rolled over to the edge of the bed when the door opened. The tall figure of her mother was standing at the door, the scepter firm in her hands.

Mal, froze.

"Get up, quick!" she ordered.

Still looking stunned, Mal got rid of the covers and stood up, she was still smaller than her mother, even though the last few years had given her a boost in her height. Screams rang out from somewhere outside.

For the first time in long, long years, Maleficent took Mal's hand in hers and they went down the stairs, towards the living room and the outside where the sounds came from.

The house was not that far from the center of the island, so Mal was able to see all the way to the sparkling lights. But they weren't just lights, they were flames. Many of them, an intense fire shining through the night, causing thick clouds of dark smoke. Mal looked at her mother, she was facing the burning city, her chin quivering slightly. Her grip on Mal's hand tightened.

"Come on." she said.

They walk, but in another direction. Deepening in the ugly forest of the Island, the trees did not grow leaves or fruits, the land was covered with small sharp stones and dry shrubs. It was filled with darkness and Mal wondered how many times her mother should have walked that path in the middle of the night, alone, to appear to know exactly where she was going. Her feet never tripped or lost their pace on the walk.

She looked around the ubiquitous shadows and the trees, relieved to have her mother by her side in her strong and somber presence, which was menacing, while at the same time bringing her confidence and security, in a strange way. It was always slightly luminous around Maleficent, as if it emanated some light of its own.

"You are twelve, Mal," said the mother without stopping walking. And Mal was surprised that she really knew her age. She hadn't mentioned that before. "You still don't know many things." she sighs. "However, there are things you need to know. Now, more than ever."

Mal nodded. "What things?"

"On the other side of the sea, which separates us from the rest of the world, is Auradon. And they are not people to be relaxed with, they will not hesitate to see you as an enemy if they lay eyes on you."

"Did they set the city on fire?" Mal asked.

Her mother nodded. “They destroy what they fear. And they are afraid of us. "

They head towards what appeared to be a huge, obscure bird's nest in the center of a dark clearing, molding itself in the shadows and becoming almost invisible.

"Come in," her mother said with a nod toward the nest.

Shock went through Mal quickly. But slowly, she walked towards the big braids of branches, trying to look confident, even when nerves twisted her stomach. She was still too small for twelve, so her body fit nicely into the empty and strangely cozy space. It was not comfortable, however, just a combination of dry shrubs, old branches and stones. Her eyes could see nothing but the figure of the mother looking at her, and the empty sky without stars or moon.

"You stay here," said Maleficent. "Don't talk, don't get out of here. If someone calls your name, don't answer. Without sound, was I clear?" she nodded.

"Will you come back?" Mal murmured.

Her mother nodded. And then Mal was alone in a big, dark, empty space.

And she stayed there for three days. Forgotten.

***

Maleficent searched all the dirty alleys and crooked sheds, looked under every rock, floor and body. She ran across that island with the determination of an eagle on a hunt, it took three days until she was sure the place was, at most, with no sign of Auradon guards. Nothing but their bodies left, and they would be discarded soon.

She did not rest, however. Her eyes were drawn to every suspicious or sudden movement, in the center of the big open space that was the city, the stores were still closed, some with broken panels and burned walls. Several people were on the streets, groaning in pain from the three-day turmoil, sleeping or dead, those who managed to get out of there still breathing cast uncertain eyes at Maleficent.

Diaval and she exchanged a look.

"Take her to the central loft," she ordered. "About the store. Safely."

Diaval nodded and left, knowing where to go.

He found Mal quickly and his heart sank in his chest, she was curled up in herself, dirty and with small cuts of stones and branches. Probably hungry. Diaval sighed, he knew how that was going to end.

**MAL - 15 YEARS OLD.**

"It looks like this party could be worth our time," said Harry, looking at himself in the reflection of the doors. Vain as always.

Mal with seventeen years old and little - very little - more than 5'2'', was still the image of her mother, the same piercing and cold green eyes, and delicate fairy features. Only now his eyes looked even colder, maybe it was age.

"That would be new," she said.

The Parlour belonged to Gaston, who was out doing something unpleasant with one of his many women. His son - one of them - Gil, Harry's friend, took the opportunity to throw a party, inviting practically everyone who mattered on the island. Almost everyone in every corner of the island's houses and huts, a variety of evil companions and them: the seeds of evil, like unpleasant murmurs, hiss over them from behind. 

Gil waited at the open door when Mal and Harry appeared in the hall. It was the first time they saw Gaston II without a tight leather vest, since he was trying to follow in his father's footsteps. Instead, he opted for tight leather pants and waved at the two newcomers with a wan smile, probably already drunk.

Mal, nodded at him. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to hug her, but then he thought better of it. Good for him. "So happy that you guys managed to come," he dragged. “Get a drink. I stole some things that can knock out a Beast, if you know what I mean."

The place was packed with guests and the beat was throbbing hard, making the windows vibrate. She, Mal had ordered for herself that she would not drink much, if anything. She learned from her past mistakes - she stole some drinks when she was fourteen and got caught drunk by Maleficent herself, not good. Even if the current crowd did not have half the danger that Mal's mother had with a look. Most of these people would piss their pants if they spent half the time Mal had spent with Maleficent. They only knew rumors, most of them false. Officially, she was the heiress of the Dark Fairy, the worst of all, very rotten to the core.

The moment they entered, people began to whisper. It was always the same. Gil pointed to the table with drinks and not-so-unpleasant foods, but Mal barely heard. Her eyes were drawn to the improvised dance floor, made in the center of the space that should have been the living room before the furniture was removed. Several people who were dancing were looking at her.

Mal and Harry exchanged a look. The danger hunters were about to fall on them. These types of girls and boys, from not-so-bad families, spoiled children of servants and helpers, and totally boring, were the favorite prey. They wouldn't end up trying to kill them or imprison them in some romance bullshit.

One of the girls, tall with dark skin, blue braids and an outfit that clung to her body like a second skin, similar to Harry's, started looking at Mal almost immediately. She was not dancing like most, just standing against a wall with aesthetic boredom on her face.

Gil whistled. And Mal looked at him.

"This is Uma, Ursula's daughter."

Mal frowned, she knew that. She and Uma never really talked, but since Mal was mostly with Harry on the old ship at anchor, they saw each other quite a bit. Gil looked at the face of a girl with purple hair, then at Uma.

"Uma is quite a competition. She does what she wants anyway, just like you. She is always looking for her next achievement, she has that mermaid blood, if you understand my reference. "

Mal's eyebrows went up. She really didn't care if Uma had heartbreaker status around. She also had, and Harry, even Gaston II himself. It wasn't like she had any future plans, or any commitment.

Gil shook his head. "I'm leaving."

He went to the bar and Harry followed him, but not before sending Mal a wink.

Uma left the wall and approached, until she and Mal were side by side, with the difference in height almost unnoticed by the heels, the shoulders touching. "I thought you didn't like parties," she hummed. Her eyes curious and flirting.

"And why do you think that?" Mal asked with an arrogant smile.

Uma raised her eyebrows. "Maybe because of your mother's history of not being invited...?"

"What do you think?" Mal snarled, losing her smile.

Uma's lips parted in a superior smile, her expression a mixture of triumph. "Did I touch a sensitive nerve?"

Across the room, Harry smiled at Mal, a second later, he stuck his tongue back in Gil's mouth.

Mal didn't notice him or anyone else.

A moment later, she pushed Uma towards a semi-dark wall and started kissing her, her lips molding eagerly together. Uma pursed her lips. "You are a mess, aren't you..."

Mal growled when she slid my hand into Uma's thigh, tight in her pants, pressing her fingers and pushing her leg to rest on her waist, increasing the contact.

"Just look at this damn place," added Mal. "Who's not?"

Uma's eyes shone with fascination.

***

"Where were you last night?"

Maleficent watched her daughter raise her eyebrows. It was quite ironic and she could see for herself, she knew that any possible union between her and Mal was gone forever, but she was still her mother. Or tried to be. And she kept an eye on her. "Why do you care?"

"I am your mother," she said, tapping her fingers against the scepter and watching the girl.

Mal's expression darkened. “Oh, are you now? What a surprise. So, where have you been most of my life, _mom_? Except, of course, when you were ignoring me like I was a plague. "

"Don't talk about what you don't know ...", Maleficent added.

"Yes, I don't know, guess why? Nobody spoke to me, _you_ don't speak to me!" Mal, clenched her fists and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Blinking them open, a vibrant green spilled on his iris, making Maleficent's own eyes shine in an instinctive response. "Don't try to get into my life right now."

Maleficent looked at his daughter. "I will not."

Mal passed by her, without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to know that people liked my work, so if you did let me know!


End file.
